


Smile, Though Your Heart is Aching

by DaftPunk_DeLorean



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Actual white knight Steve Rogers, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Gaslighting, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Tony Feels, Tony Whump, emotional distress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaftPunk_DeLorean/pseuds/DaftPunk_DeLorean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony couldn't hide the bruises and injuries forever, pretending like nothing was wrong. One of these days, Tiberius was going to <em>really</em> lose control, and Tony would be lucky to survive. Eventually someone would <em>have</em> to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile, Though Your Heart is Aching

Tony worked the room like a pro, flashing his dazzling smile and straightening his diamond cufflinks with a saucy wink at the ladies. The benefit was small but elite, and Tony had asked Steve if he could represent the Avengers, glad-handing a few politicians with his endearing, effervescent smile into contributing a few more million to the endowment project they were working on. 

Tony sipped his tonic and lime, watching Steve from across the room, how effortlessly he bantered and how he slapped his hand over his heart when he laughed. He knew Steve hated these things, but just like Tony, he was able to put up a wall of charm when needed, and the cluster of positively dazzled attendees around him was evidence of Steve’s success. 

The corner of Tony’s lip curved up into a small smile as he watched Steve, and he felt that draw too, wanting to be close to him, wanting Steve to turn that charm on him, wanting to feel that safety he felt when they worked side-by-side in battle. 

“And to what do we owe that pretty smile?” a silky voice purred in Tony’s ear as a hand rested firmly in the small of Tony’s back. Tony instantly tensed up, flicking his eyes away from Steve guiltily, hiding his infraction behind a sip of his drink. He smiled up at Tiberius, making sure it met his eyes, just like he’d practiced in front of the mirror.

“Just watching my millions roll in, Ty,” Tony said with a careless laugh, setting his drink aside and wrapping his arms around Ty’s shoulders as strong arms slid around his waist. Tony forced himself not to wince as Ty’s arms pressed into his cracked ribs, his reward from the last time Tony messed up. Ty had given Tony the diamond cufflinks as an apology gift, and insisted that Tony wear them tonight. 

“Mm-hm,” Ty hummed, kissing Tony’s nose. “Looked to me like you were enjoying the view a little too much.”

Tony instantly felt coldness in his stomach, but kept up his smile, twirling Ty’s sleek blond ponytail around his finger slowly. Tony needed to be better, he couldn’t just let his guard down like that, not when Ty was here. The man was always on the knife’s edge between sweet and sadistic, and Tony’s actions were what decided which direction Ty fell. Tony had learned that lesson the hard way long ago. Tony kissed Ty sweetly. There could still be time to fix this.

“You know I can’t enjoy a view unless you’re a part of it,” Tony murmured, looking at Ty through his lashes, biting his lower lip playfully. Thankfully, Ty laughed, and Tony felt himself unclench minutely as he released the breath he’d been holding. Safe. For now. 

“Why don’t we have a dance,” Ty purred, leading Tony to the dance floor with that heavy hand at the small of his back, and Tony beamed at him.

“Gonna sweep me off my feet, sweetcheeks?” he teased, and Ty just laughed again and twirled Tony out, before falling into a graceful dance. They were both excellent dancers, and worked their way around the floor to the lilting jazz with ease. But that unease twisted Tony’s stomach again, because Ty held him just a little too tightly, and his smile was just a little too sharp. Tony frantically catalogued the evening to try to pinpoint what he’d done wrong, as he prattled about his newest R&D projects. 

They had both started the evening by mingling and shaking hands and cajoling politicians out of their money, danced a little, and went out on the balcony while Ty had a smoke (which Tony dutifully didn’t complain about). Ty had sipped bourbon and kissed Tony, and Tony had to stop himself from pulling away when he reluctantly tasted the liquor on his lips. The only transgression Tony could think of was watching Steve just a little too long with a little too fond of a smile. 

And that was a big transgression. Ty didn’t like for Tony to have friends, didn’t want them asking questions. He wanted Tony all to himself. But Pepper and Rhodey and Steve and Bruce and the others were all insistent on being his friend, forcing their way into his life and settling into a comfortable routine in his tower, whether Ty wanted it or not. Tony always smiled happily to see them, but made sure to wear long sleeves for a few days after to hide the bruises he’d earned because he hadn’t been able to get out of seeing them.

But Ty _especially_ didn’t like Tony to be friends with Steve. Steve was a threat that Tony couldn’t avoid. They were on the same team and worked closely together, as both teammates and friends, on classified projects that Ty wasn’t allowed to be a part of (not that he hadn’t tried to bully his way into an Avengers debriefing before). Steve also had a clear disdain for Ty, and seemed to purposely nettle him despite Tony’s pleading eyes, begging him to not rock the boat. Ty’s moods always seemed worse after being around Steve, and Tony tried desperately to keep them apart for his own safety. It was utterly exhausting.

Tony and Ty danced smoothly as Tony continued to babble about a particular development in the field of silent field comms, and Ty just rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated.

“Tony, you know I don’t care about hearing about every one of your little pet projects. When it starts turning a profit for the company, then you can tell me all about it to your little heart’s content,” he said, and Tony wilted, but hitched up a smile for him.

“Sorry, babe. You know how excited I get about these things,” he mumbled, stung, as they made their way back to the bar, Ty with his bourbon, Tony with his tonic and lime. Ty kissed the back of Tony’s hand, watching him a little too closely with his unnerving gaze over the rim of his glass. 

“Sometimes I think you do it on purpose to get on my nerves,” Ty murmured a little too casually, and Tony paled a little, taking Ty’s glass from his mouth and replacing it with his lips. 

“I just get carried away,” he whispered warmly against Ty’s lips. “I don’t do it on purpose, I swear. I’m just in workshop mode like, 90% of the time.” Tony laughed weakly, and Ty’s face was unreadable as he hummed noncommittally. Tony went back to his drink, uncomfortable, until a warm voice sizzled through the air like a bullet grazing his ear.

“Tony! You sure to clean up well,” Steve teased with a beaming, warm smile for him, pulling him into a friendly hug that Tony had to work to not melt into. He had a dumb, dizzy smile on his face when Steve let go, which he quickly schooled into a smirk.

“Yeah, well, once in a rare while I emerge from my cocoon of grease and coffee stains to become a beautiful butterfly,” he quipped, and Steve’s laugh made his heart want to sing. Steve punched him lightly on the shoulder. 

“All right, butterfly, where’d you get those obnoxious cufflinks?” he asked with a laugh, taking Tony’s wrist and pushing his sleeve up to look at the large, gaudy diamond and chunky gold setting with an arched brow. Tony froze, his smile as tight as a tripwire, as he shrugged his wrist quickly out of Steve’s hand. He looped his arm through Ty’s, pressing close.

“They were a gift. From Ty. Aren’t the pretty? Very me, I thought,” he said a little too quickly. To be honest, he hated them. They weren’t his style at all. But when Ty had given them to him, he gushed enthusiastically, not wanting their good day to turn bad because of him. Steve looked at Tony a little strangely, and his expression cooled almost imperceptibly as his eyes slid over to Ty. Tony patted Ty’s forearm eagerly. “Steve, you know Tiberius,” he said needlessly. They certainly knew each other well.

“Tiberius, always a pleasure to see you,” Steve said with a wide, shark-like grin and a little tightness around his eyes that hopefully only Tony noticed. Ty shook his hand and grinned back, and Tony could tell Steve was squeezing Ty’s hand just a little too tightly. 

“The pleasure is all mine. Always an honor to shake hands with a national icon,” Ty said, and Tony laughed to break the tension, but it was a little too high-pitched.

“I hope you’ve been making me a lot of money over there,” he said to Steve, his heart beating faster than entirely necessary. “Gotta keep me living in the style to which I’ve become accustomed.” Steve just laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t say that in front of the investors, Tony,” he chided kindly, leaning around them to ask the bartender for a drink. “But yeah, the foundation is having a very lucrative night tonight. I’m glad I could come along and help.” Steve’s eyes softened as they looked at Tony, and Tony didn’t meet his eyes, busying himself with his drink as he pressed closer to Ty.

Ty wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist, pressing hard once again into those ribs, and this time Tony couldn’t stifle the gasp of pain and the visible stiffening of his body. It was a warning, and he knew better than to disobey it. Steve, of course, noticed immediately.

“Tony? Are you all right?” he asked, his brow furrowing. Tony nodded quickly, his mouth opening to say he was fine, before he was interrupted smoothly.

“He’s fine, aren’t you, darling?” Ty said with an edge in his voice, and Tony nodded again, smiling widely. 

“Don’t we have a reservation to be getting to?” Tony asked in a would-be light tone, and Ty laughed smoothly. 

“We do, indeed. Captain, if you’ll excuse us, I think you’ve got this under control,” he said, and whisked Tony away before he could say goodbye to Steve. The benefit was winding down anyway, and Ty and reserved a table at the lavish hotel restaurant for the two of them. 

He ushered Tony to his seat at their private corner table, and Tony’s heart sank a little. He hated having his back to the room, but whenever he was with Ty, that’s how he made him sit. Like he was always looking for a way to keep Tony off-balance. Tony reproached himself mentally. Ty wouldn’t do something intentional like that. His moods were just… temporary. Tony was always the one who set him off, after all. 

Ty sat across from Tony, reaching over the table to hold Tony’s hand. He brushed his thumb over Tony’s knuckles gently, and Tony held his breath, waiting for something to happen. Ty just smiled at him, with that same unnerving, unreadable expression.

“You and Captain Rogers seem quite friendly tonight,” Ty murmured casually, and Tony swallowed hard. 

“Well, you know how it is with coworkers,” he said weakly. 

“No, I don’t know. How about you explain it to me?” Ty said, pinning Tony to his chair with his gaze. Tony swallowed again.

“Just- he- we work on a lot of stuff together with the team, and we just-“ Tony stammered. “Nothing’s going on, Ty, we’re just friends, I swear.” Tony felt a cold bead of sweat roll down the curve of his lower back. 

“I don’t like you seeing him. I don’t like you talking to him. Understand?” Ty said, his voice still eerily calm and sweet, like the eye of a hurricane. Tony nodded, dropping his eyes.

“Yes, Ty,” he whispered, not knowing how he could possibly do what he wanted, considering they were co-leaders of the same team. Tony felt queasy. He was Iron Man, for fuck’s sake! But Ty somehow made him feel an inch tall when he was like this. But it had to be Tony’s fault. When he was good, Ty made him feel like the most incredible man on earth. Invincible. Strong. Powerful. Happy. Not at all the way Tony felt at the moment, churning with nerves and dread, like he was navigating a minefield while wearing a blindfold. Like he was a prisoner of Ty’s moods.

“There’s my good boy,” Ty praised, and Tony felt filthy at the endearment, like he was a dog in training. Ty gestured to the waiter, who brought over two crystal champagne flutes and a bottle of fine champagne. He poured them both a measure and left the bottle, and Ty picked up his glass as if to toast. Tony just stared as his glass, blanching.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly. Ty simply arched a brow. 

“We’re celebrating a successful night for your foundation, are we not? Every good success deserves a champagne toast,” he said, his voice growing harder, more threatening with every word. Tony balled up his fists in his lap, trying not to visibly clench his jaw. 

“You know how hard it’s been for me to stay sober,” Tony murmured, his voice shaking a little. “I haven’t had a drink in eight months.” Ty set down his glass and sighed like Tony was being a brat.

“And you’ve been about as exciting as a dead fish the whole time,” he said, his voice no longer soft and inviting. “Live it up a little, goddammit. Don’t you know it’s rude to make your boyfriend drink alone, especially after I came to this fucking dog and pony show for you? I thought you wanted this to be a nice night for us. Don’t mess it up now, Tony.”

Tony burned inside, his heart pounding with anger that he wasn’t allowed to show, fear he wasn’t supposed to feel. 

“Please, Ty. Don’t make me do this,” he whispered helplessly. Ty simply grabbed Tony’s hand and thrust the glass into it, then lifted his own.

“You’re going to drink it, and you’re going to stop being a baby about it,” Ty growled, and Tony nodded automatically, knowing better than to challenge that tone. They clinked glasses, and immediately Ty’s smile was warm and soft again. 

“There we go. See how nice things can be when you’re good? What shall we toast to, hm? How about to the success of your foundation? Or to our continued happiness?” he suggested lightly, and Tony’s hand that held the glass trembled. 

“To us,” he said softly, and sipped as little of the champagne as he could. But as soon as it hit his tongue, the sweet burn of the alcohol clouded the flavors of the champagne, and slid hot and cloying down his throat. He set the glass down firmly, but his willpower was already crumbling. He could do this. It was just a sip. He could stop right now, and not go down that path. But as the anxiety wormed and twisted his stomach, he found himself slowly reaching for the glass again, taking another hesitant sip, then another, before he caught Ty’s predatory grin and downed the rest of the glass in a single gulp.

“One step closer to a good time,” Ty laughed, topping up Tony’s glass again. Tony finished that one, then the next, in two gulps, and was halfway into his fourth when the waiter showed back up. Tony hadn’t even thought to look at the menu, and scrambled to open it, his vision already sluggish from the comparatively small amount of alcohol he’d consumed. But Ty set his hand on Tony’s, preventing him from opening the menu.

“We’ll both have the braised pork belly with the spring pea risotto,” Ty said, and when the waiter left them, Tony stared.

“You know I don’t like it when you order for me,” Tony said flatly, and Ty shrugged indifferently.

“I forgot,” he said dismissively, leaning back and lighting a cigarette in the restaurant in an astounding display of egotism. Tony waved the smoke away from him, and Ty shot him a look. “Quit making a goddamned scene,” he hissed.

“I’m not- Christ, Ty, smoking inside has been illegal for twenty years,” Tony said, then clamped his mouth shut when Ty slammed his hand down on the table and glared at him coldly. Ty stared Tony down until Tony dropped his eyes and slumped back in his chair, then went back to lazily dragging on the cigarette in tense silence, finally stubbing it out on the bottom of his shoe. 

“You know what your problem is?” Ty drawled, and Tony stiffened. 

“What?”

“You’re too sensitive. Too high-strung. You get your little _feelings_ hurt too easily.”

Tony glared at his lap and said nothing.

“What, you don’t have anything to say?” Ty’s tone was challenging. “I didn’t know you were in the mood to play games. What’ll it be tonight? You sitting over there pouting over nothing while I have to guess what you’re upset about this time?

“No, Ty, fucking… I’m not sensitive, okay? I’m just-“ Tony started, faltering when he couldn’t come up with words, frustration making him visibly flush. Then Tony jumped, startled, when Ty’s laughter rang out sharply.

“Jesus, Tony, learn to take a joke, I was just messing with you. Don’t be so _high-strung_ ,” Ty said with mocking laughter. Tony stared in disbelief, then forced a quiet laugh to keep the peace.

“Sorry, I know, I’m just tired from working on some projects,” he said, sipping his champagne and looking away, already finding disquieting solace in the blanket of blurred numbness that the alcohol provided him.

“Maybe you should get your friend Steve to rub your shoulders sometime,” Ty suggested lightly. Tony sensed a trap.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me around him?” Tony asked. Ty made a derisive noise.

“I never said that.”

“You- what? Ty, you literally _just_ said that thirty minutes ago,” Tony said, frowning. Ty rolled his eyes.

“God, Tony. I never said that. Quit putting words into my mouth. I said I thought he was up to something, that I didn’t trust him.”

Tony was quiet, reeling. Was he going crazy? He had to be losing his goddamned mind. He swore he remembered Ty’s words, but even now, he doubted his own reality. Why did it always feel like that these days? Jesus, he was a fucking genius, he couldn’t afford to doubt himself, and yet. 

“Right, sorry,” he said, slumping again until the waiter came back, who sniffed the air suspiciously as he laid out the plates. 

“Gentlemen, may I remind you that this is a non-smoking establishment?” the waiter said with an arched brow, and Ty flashed him a beaming smile.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again,” he said smoothly, gesturing at Tony, who looked at Ty like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. The waiter looked scathingly at Tony and walked away, and Tony leaned forward.

“What the fuck, Ty? Why’d you blame that on me?” he hissed. Ty waved a hand.

“You’re the great Tony Stark,” he said, his tone disdainful. “No one cares what you do.”

The words had a double meaning in that tone, and Tony was stung. He laid his napkin down, food untouched. 

“I’ll be right back, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said flatly, and got up stiffly, making himself walk slowly, instead of running like he wanted to. The champagne made him feel unpleasantly fuzzy, and in the bathroom he splashed cool water on his face, leaning over the sink and staring at the water for too long. 

Tonight was going to be a bad night, and Tony didn’t want to go home. He knew Ty wouldn’t make a scene in public, but as soon as they got to his penthouse.... Every time they were together, it was impossible to tell if things were going to be good or bad. And the good was so, _so_ good, but the bad was _terrifying_. Tony tried so hard to keep the peace, but he seemed to keep messing up, more and more often, each time getting worse. 

Tony took a deep, shaky breath, exhaling slowly through his mouth. He just had to get through tonight. Tomorrow would be good again, as it always was after a rough night. Ty would surprise him with a nice breakfast, and take him out to a musical or a lovely restaurant, or maybe slip him a lavish gift, with a soft kiss on the shoulder and warm arms around his waist. 

It would be okay. 

He dried his face and headed back to the table, but paused when he passed the banquet room. The band was packed up and the room had emptied, but he could still hear a piano playing, lilting and jazzy. He slowed, peeking into the room, arching a brow in surprise when he saw that it was Steve sitting there, a lazy grin on his face while he played for the empty room. 

Tony melted a little, feeling comfortable and warm just watching Steve play. He had no idea Steve could play piano, but he supposed it shouldn’t surprise him, since it was just another form of the arts that Steve was so good at. Tony leaned against the door frame just watching unnoticed, and broke out in a full smile when Steve began to sing softly in a husky baritone. 

He found himself imagining the two of them sitting around in the living room, Steve playing the grand piano that sat in the alcove mostly unused, while Tony worked on drafts on his tablet, just enjoying each other’s company. Tony wasn’t even sure if it was Steve he wanted, or the _idea_ of Steve. Of solid, safe comfort, and freedom and support. But as they’d become closer and closer friends, Tony realized he was starting to find those things in Steve.

He was so lost in his little daydream that he nearly shouted when a firm hand yanked him around roughly, pulling him away from the door. Tony’s eyes went wide, the warmth and security from just a moment before instantly evaporating into tension and fear. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ty hissed, and Tony recoiled involuntarily, trying to get his arm out of Ty’s grip. 

“I was just on my way back-“ he started, and Ty shook him hard, making Tony’s teeth rattle.

“And you thought you’d stop in to gaze dreamily at your other boyfriend? Just had to make up an excuse to go to the bathroom because you couldn’t go an hour without seeing him?” Ty tightened his grip when Tony pulled at his arm, and Tony made a pained sound, trying not to cry out.

“Ty, you’re hurting me,” he said, strained, not noticing that the piano playing had trailed off and the banquet room was silent, as if listening. Ty gripped Tony’s jaw, squeezing painfully hard, nails digging into Tony’s cheek. 

“Get your ass to the car, we’re going home,” he growled, and shoved Tony away from him. Tony stumbled, but moved as quickly as he could through the hotel lobby, smiling tightly at the few uppity-ups who recognized him and wanted to shake his hand. He crawled into the backseat of the waiting limo, pressing himself against the opposite door, tracking every move of Ty’s as he got in the backseat. As soon as the door was shut, Ty turned to Tony with fire in his blue eyes. 

“Come here,” he said in a low voice. Tony was paralyzed against the door, unable to move. Ty made a disgusted sound and reached out, gripping Tony’s hair in his fist and hauling him close. Tony cried out sharply and reached up to grab Ty’s wrist with both hands, trying to ease the grip.

“When I say come here, I mean _come here!_ ” Ty hissed, holding Tony up by the hair. “And instead, you sit there and stare at me like a fucking idiot!” Tony’s eyes stung from the words and the pain in his scalp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pled, his voice thick with tears and fear. “Please,” he begged weakly.

“Please what?” Ty said derisively

“Please don’t do this, I didn’t mean to ruin the night, I just messed up, I’ll make it up to you-“ Tony blurted, the words tumbling out of his mouth, until he gasped again when Ty shook him hard by the hair. 

“Goddamned right you’re going to make it up to me,” he growled, and Tony immediately felt sick, remembering the last time he had “to make it up” to Ty. He’d held Tony down and shoved his cock so far down Tony’s throat that he’d gagged and couldn’t breathe, his back bowing and stomach going concave as he heaved. Ty had pulled off and Tony promptly vomited, and Ty just went right back to it, taking pleasure in making Tony sick over and over until he came in Tony’s mouth. He’d told Tony that he’d better keep it down, or he’d make him lick up his mess, then shoved his face down in the puddle of sick and left him there. 

Tony didn’t want a repeat of that night.

Ty shoved Tony away from him so that he tumbled to the floor of the limo in his fine bespoke tux, and Tony looked up at him warily, chest heaving and heart racing.

“Stay down there where you belong,” Ty warned him, and Tony didn’t move a muscle until the limo pulled into the private parking garage below the tower. Ty didn’t wait for the driver, getting out on own and gesturing curtly at Tony. Tony scrambled out of the limo, staying close to Ty’s side, silent and watchful, with dread curling in his gut like cold water. If he’d only been better, this wouldn’t be happening. He knew Ty had his moods, and he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut or his eyes to himself. Tony clenched his fists to hide the trembling in his fingers. He just had to get through tonight. 

The elevator ride was silent and tense and seemed to simultaneously last forever and slip by in a flash. Just before they reached his floor, Ty shot Tony a warning look, and Tony looked at the ground miserably.

“Jarvis, blackout mode,” he mumbled, actively cutting off his only lifeline, disabling video and audio surveillance in the penthouse. No proof, no interruptions, just how Ty liked it. Jarvis hesitated, as he always did when Tony requested blackout mode in Ty’s presence. And afterward, Jarvis would question Tony’s new injuries and implore him to talk to one of his teammates, and Tony would put him on mute and lockdown the workshop until he could bring himself to pretend like nothing was wrong.

“As you wish, Sir,” Jarvis finally said, and Tony felt a tear already running down the side of his nose. Ty grabbed his wrist and drug him off the elevator, immediately slamming him into the wall. 

“You always have to piss me off,” he growled, crushing the side of Tony’s face against the wall by the nape of his neck. Tony grunted, trying to push back from the wall, so it didn’t press so hard into his arc reactor. Ty grabbed his hand, twisting it hard behind him, and Tony choked on his air.

“Ty, _please_ ,” he gasped as Ty twisted his hand so hard Tony felt his vision swim and swore he hear something snap. “You’re going to break my hand!” 

“How long have you and Rogers had a thing behind my back? How long have you been cheating on me with him?” he hissed, and punched Tony hard in his cracked ribs. Tony tried to cower away from the strike, howling in pain, tears flowing freely.

“I’m- Ty, please! I’m not cheating, I swear, we’re only friends!” he choked out, scrabbling at the wall with his free hand, trying to get away. Ty landed another punch, and let go abruptly, letting Tony fall in a heap on the floor. Tony cried out, holding his side protectively, then shouted when Ty grabbed him by the hair again and drug him across the room.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you stared at him all night, undressing him with your eyes like a fucking _whore!_ Flirting with _Captain fucking America_ like he would _ever_ stoop low enough to take someone like _you_ home! God, the _balls_ on you! The only reason I put up with your useless bullshit is because you make me money and you’re an easy hole to fuck!” Ty screamed, and his words cut hotly through Tony’s heart.

“Don’t…” Tony whimpered, the pain of Ty’s words hurting more than the fist in his hair. Tony grunted when Ty threw him down. 

“You belong to _me!_ When are you going to use that genius brain of yours to figure that out?” Ty shouted, shoving Tony to the ground and holding him there with a knee to his arc reactor. The pain was excruciating, the pressure putting strain on the screws holding the casing to his ribs, crushing it into his right atrium and lungs. 

“Ty-“ Tony gasped, his voice a high-pitched wheeze of pain as he pushed futilely against Ty’s knee and hips. “I c-can’t breathe-“

Ty silenced him with a vicious punch to his left cheek, and Tony fell back, thumping his head hard against the stone floor, stunned. Ty had never hit him in the face before, or anywhere that Tony couldn’t hide it. He saw dizzying sparks as panic started rolling through him in great, terrifying waves, clenching around his heart and guts and spine. Ty was out of control, and Tony was at his mercy. 

“You! Belong! To _me!_ ” Ty shouted in an incandescent rage, spittle flying from his bared teeth, punctuating each word with a punch. Tony tried to raise his hands to defend himself, but was too dazed and terrified, unable to see straight. He could taste copper, and heaved an enormous, wheezing breath when Ty finally stood, until he kicked Tony hard in the ribs, a crunching noise filling the air. Tony doubled up with a raw scream, curling around himself and heaving. 

“When are you going to learn, Tony? If I can’t have you, _no one can!_ ” Ty pulled his leg back for another kick, and Tony was just cognizant enough to squeeze his eyes shut and try to protect his broken ribs, but seconds passed and there was a jumble of shouting, and the kick never came. 

Tony strained to open one eye, the other one already swollen shut, and saw… Steve? The door to the stairwell was kicked in, and Steve had thrown Ty on the ground, punching him without mercy.

“You fucking _bastard!_ ” Steve shouted savagely, slamming Ty back so that his head cracked sickeningly against the stone floor. “How _dare_ you? Don’t you ever fucking touch him again!” Ty’s arms fell limply to the ground, and Tony realized that he must be unconscious, but Steve landed several more unrestrained punches, before he stood over Ty and stared down at him with revulsion, his chest heaving.

“Steve…” Tony whispered thickly, and instantly, Steve was at his side.

“Oh god, Tony… I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner…” Steve muttered frantically, fumbling his phone out and calling a paramedic. He helped Tony roll over, looking sick when Tony cried out in pain. Steve nestled Tony’s head in his lap, stroking his sweaty hair off his forehead. “Don’t worry, Tony, I promise he’s never going to hurt you again,” Steve said fervently.

Tony looked up at Steve like he was the center of the universe, one corner of his swollen, blood-tinged lips curving up into a weak smile. 

“You came for me,” he whispered, and Steve smiled over him, despite that his face was pinched with worry. 

“I’ve always got your back, Shellhead,” Steve murmured, and Tony sighed a wet breath, before blackness tunneled in on him, and he faded away to the panicked sound of Steve calling his name.

****************

When Tony awoke, he was bleary and his mouth felt like it was full of sawdust. He was in pain, but it was that sluggish, drug-dulled pain that made him feel like he had a fever and might still be trudging through a nightmare. He blinked several times before the room came into focus, and he saw that he was in his own room, the lights dimmed and a blanket pulled up neatly over his chest.

“Steve…?” he croaked in a rough whisper, and in an instant, Steve hovered over him, his blue eyes kind and worried.

“Hey, Tone, I’m glad you’re back with us,” he said softly, smiling at Tony. Tony smiled back weakly, but he almost immediately paled, his smile fading.

“Is he- he’s not gonna…” he rasped, trying to sit up, only to gasp in pain. Steve pushed him back down gently. 

“You’re safe, Tony. Ty is in the hospital and he’s going to be there for a long time. I, uh- I might have lost control a little bit.” He said without remorse. “After that he’s going to jail, and I really hope you’ll consider pressing charges.”

Tony relaxed visibly, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment, now that he felt safe.

“And Jarvis?” he asked.

“Fully functioning, Sir. I took the liberty of changing access codes and informing security that Mr. Stone not be allowed on the premises for any reason,” Jarvis said, and Tony could have sworn he heard satisfaction in his voice. He blinked sleepily again, hauling his eyes open when he felt a straw being pressed to his lips.

“Drink a little bit, Tony. It’ll help you feel better,” Steve said gently, carefully cradling Tony’s head up. Tony complied, drinking nearly the whole glass. He sighed as he sank back into the pillows, eyes closing when he felt Steve stroke his hair back tenderly. It felt so good to be touched with kindness that didn’t have strings attached, Tony thought as he drifted off again.

When he awoke for the second time, he felt much more clear-headed. The lights were still dimmed, and he could only see out of one eye, but what he saw made him smile slightly. 

Steve was in a squashy chair that he must have pulled in from the living room, his sock feet propped up on the bed beside Tony. Steve’s head lolled back, his mouth hanging open gracelessly, and he snored softly from the awkward angle. He held a pillow to his chest, arms wrapped around it comically, and Tony just stared for a while. 

Steve had always been kind. Even when they butted heads, which was often, Steve fought with logic, not fists. He challenged Tony, even down to his core beliefs, but always respected what he had to say. Steve had never made Tony feel worthless. 

Tony thought idly about what it must be like to be in a relationship with someone like Steve. He wondered what it might be like to feel that free, to say and do what he wanted, to live without walking on eggshells. He couldn’t even remember what that freedom felt like, before Ty crushed his fist around Tony’s very spirit.

Tony shifted, then felt a tug and looked down. He had an IV port in his hand, and when he looked up, he saw that the drip bag was empty. His other hand was in a heavy brace, and Tony looked at in in confusion for a moment before he shifted to sit up. But pain ripped through his body like claws, and he gasped and fell back.

“Shit…” he hissed, holding his side, and Steve seemed to jump a mile out of his chair, next to Tony in an instant.

“Tony! Don’t try to move, not without help,” he said, glancing up at the IV bag, empty of the dulling pain medication. “Here, let me.” He shifted some pillows, then slid his arms under Tony’s armpits and easily moved him into a sitting position with minimal pain for Tony. Tony winced, pulling his shirt up to see tight bandages around his chest, then touched his face gingerly, feeling pronounced swelling and several butterfly bandages. 

“Thanks,” he murmured hoarsely, drinking the water that Steve held up for him. He coughed lightly, immediately regretting it with a distressed noise when he felt fire in his ribs. Steve set the cup aside and quickly laid his hand gently on Tony’s side, bracing him.

“Careful, Tone, you’ve got two broken ribs and some serious bruising and swelling, and some tendon damage in your wrist,” he said, and Tony looked at him with his one good eye.

“And let me guess. My face looks like ground chuck?” he said, the sarcasm falling flat. Steve just looked at him sadly.

“You could say that.” He sighed, looking at Tony as he sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “Doc says the x-rays show that most of your ribs have been broken at least once, and that you’ve had past multiple fractures, as well as evidence of internal bleeding, inconsistent with your post-battle medic reports. Tony, how come you never said anything? We could have- I could have helped,” Steve said quietly, earnestly. It made Tony ache. He turned his face away, Steve’s genuine concern making him feel utterly worthless.

“It would have been a lot worse for me if I’d said anything,” he whispered miserably, plucking invisible fuzz off the blanket.

“Oh, Tony…” Steve said sadly. “We would have kept you safe. We’re going to keep you safe. He’s not going to hurt you again.” Tony could feel tears prickling at his eyes, and he was just so ashamed, like his horrible secret had been laid bare for the world to mock. The great Iron Man, nothing more than a wretch hiding inside a suit of armor that couldn’t even protect him from being beaten by his own boyfriend.

“Does the press know?” Tony asked. 

“No, and they won’t, unless you tell them.”

There was a stretch of quiet, and it seemed like Steve was waiting for Tony to say something, but he couldn’t find words for all the things he was feeling right then. Finally, Steve broke the silence.

“How long has this been going on?”

Tony was silent a long time, not wanting to say. It was humiliating. He was a goddamned hero, a grown man, reduced to a smear of shit beneath Ty’s feet.

“A long time. Since before the beginning,” he whispered, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see the judgment in Steve’s. “We’ve known each other so long, and… we sometimes fought, but just, you know, little… scuffles, I guess. But then he started to… it, um. It got worse, and… it always seemed like it was just a one-time deal, and when we actually started dating, he… it just seemed like he was always there, always watching, like he was waiting for me to mess up, and…” 

Tony shifted uncomfortably, feeling dread and anxiety bubble up just talking about it, like Ty would somehow find out that Tony was talking about him like this, when Tony explicitly wasn’t allowed to say anything to anyone, ever, not even Jarvis. He twisted the blanket in his fingers, unconsciously backpedaling, his heart racing at his mistake. 

“But I mean, he was always so sweet, you know? And he would treat me like a treasure and buy me gifts and send me flowers and write the most beautiful love letters. And he took me on these trips and we’d laugh and everything was so- so nice… but I would just say the wrong things sometimes, or maybe talk to the wrong person, and it would just set him off into one of his moods. It’s my fault, though… if I’d just been better it never would have happened in the first pla-“ Tony said softly, but looked up in surprise when Steve took his hands.

“Tony, _no_. No, no, no. None of this is your fault. You can’t take the blame for what he did. He made the choice to be cruel, and your actions had nothing to do with that choice. Do you understand that?” he said with quiet vehemence. Tony only stared at his lap, tears falling freely now.

“But I knew the things he didn’t like, and I did them anyway-“

“It doesn’t matter. He should have talked it out like a human being, not lashed out like a monster.”

Tony’s breath caught like sand in his throat and then Steve was there, hugging him close as Tony cried quietly into his shoulder.

“He told me to stay away from my friends, so they wouldn’t find out, and he didn’t want me to be around you or the rest of the team except on missions… and he- he never did anything where it would show, he always made sure I could hide it or pass it off as a battle injury… and- and he made me drink champagne and I haven't even been sober a year and now it’s all down the drain and I have to start over and all I want right now is a fucking drink, and…” Tony sucked in air, trying not to hyperventilate. “And he made me sign over part of the company, and now I’m trapped and I can’t get away…” he breathed, words spilling out of his mouth unreservedly, as he tried not to cry too hard because of the pain in his ribs.

Steve just rubbed his back and let him get it all out, but Tony could tell Steve was angry and tense, and it made him shrink back, unconsciously, already doing damage control. 

“M’sorry,” Tony mumbled, trying to pull away. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Steve held him by the shoulders, not letting him pull back too far. 

“Tony, I am absolutely, one hundred percent not angry with you, okay? You’re fine. I swear I won’t hurt you. All my anger is at Ty for what he did to you. We’re going to fix this, okay? You’ve got the best lawyers in the world. He won’t touch you or your company again.” Steve took a breath and closed his eyes, and Tony sagged with relief as Steve visibly tried to calm himself. Finally Steve looked at Tony, sighing again.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t apologize enough. All those times you were nursing injuries, and we just brushed it off as something that happened on a mission, or a- a workshop accident or something. We should have paid better attention, and we let you down. I hope you’ll forgive us, Tony.” Tony just stared, his mouth falling open, hardly able to process that Steve was the one apologizing to him. 

“Ty never apologized to me,” he whispered. Steve’s expression darkened.

“He will when I’m through with him,” he said in a low voice. Tony just shook his head. This felt like a fever dream. 

“How did you even know? The penthouse is soundproofed, and Jarvis was in blackout mode.” 

Steve looked a little sheepish at that.

“I never really liked him, Tone. He just… he rubbed me the wrong way. And I hated the way you seemed so… _small_ when you were around him. Like all the life just went out of your eyes. And he seemed edgy tonight, and I just kept having this nagging feeling that he was doing wrong by you, and if I’d just pay closer attention, he’d give himself away. I’d just had enough.” He glanced up at Tony through his blond lashes.

“I knew you had reservations at the restaurant, so I stuck around in the ballroom and waited you out. Then I heard you in the hallway say that he was hurting you, and I just saw red. I followed you back to the tower on my bike, and got into the stairwell to listen at the emergency exit.” He smiled softly, tapping his ear. “Super soldier hearing. But then I- I _heard_ …”

Steve looked sick, and Tony felt sick remembering it.

“So I kicked in the door and pulled him off you. I think I might have broken his face.” He looked at Tony with remorseless ferocity. “And I’d do it again.” Tony was shocked, floored that Steve would do something so caring, to be so involved with Tony’s safety that he would be _actively violent_ on Tony’s behalf.

“Steve, I-“ Tony quietly reached for Steve’s hand, and Steve laced their fingers together reassuringly. 

“Thank you,” Tony whispered. Steve smiled at him.

“Anytime, Shellhead.”

Tony let his head fall back, exhausted already just from their short conversation, but he smiled when he felt warm fingers brush his hair back and a cool cloth pressing against the bruising and swelling on the side of his face. He looked at Steve with a half-lidded gaze, languishing in this profound sense of safety that was so foreign to him. 

“Since when do you play piano?” Tony asked, as if he was offended that Steve had neglected to share this fascinating morsel of information with him. Steve laughed, squeezing Tony’s hand. 

“Well my bridge club only meets on Mondays and Wednesdays, you know. Gotta fill the time somehow,” he teased quietly, carefully tending to Tony’s wounds. Tony snorted, closing his eyes once more.

“You’ll have to play for me sometime,” Tony sighed, already drifting off again. He was halfway there when he felt a squeeze on his hand and heard a soft whisper.

“I’d love to, Tony.”


End file.
